


In This Place, My Place

by thepizzasitter



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Class Differences, Class Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, M/M, Maid!Piers, Maids, Multi, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Trans Nezu | Piers (Pokemon), Victorian Attitudes, basically this is going to be period piece levels of oh my god please communicate, everyone is useless but they'll get their happy endings, side relationship is sonia/nessa/raihan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter
Summary: Four months since the Master of the house had gone into town for the season.Grand balls and dances and socializing with his fellow elite. Being wined and dined as high society tried to gentle its coercion into strengthening the wealth and prestige it so desperately craved. Matrimony was just one of a thousand ways to secure its own future, but it certainly was among the top of the list.Four months of fear and doubt all culminating into what awaited him past that door. Piers sighed, taking a fortifying breath back in, and opened it.No sense in delaying the inevitable.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	In This Place, My Place

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday darling [Xay](https://twitter.com/DEADxEYEZ)! Sorry for such a delay, but here's the first chapter of your gift fic! Hope you enjoy your maid Piers and this whole squad of useless Victorian gays living up to that stereotype.
> 
> Music I listened to for the first chapter can be found here: [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ouMlUZt9DI).
> 
> I'll update this note with more when the second chapter is complete, since that will hold the most content. In the meantime, if you want to come yell with me on Twitter, my main/cosplay account is ShyloRen and my 18+ Pokemon side account is CryptidPiers.

There were things one could expect in the manors of the wealthy, and decorum was perhaps one of the most prioritized in the majority of households.

Everything _with_ a place, and everything _in_ its place.

It was what Piers had expected when he’d first come to serve at Postwick.

As one of the oldest and noblest of families with direct ties to the monarchy, the inhabitants of the Postwick Manor spared no expense when it came to displaying their wealth. Everything from the furniture to the décor to the grounds was lavish, and therefore needed to be maintained with the highest quality staff.

That Piers had found himself among the blessed few was…

Well, it had been unthinkable once, and it was going to become so once more.

Piers carefully prepared the tray, tucking a letter beneath the sugar bowl before he hiked up his skirts and climbed the stairs, his heart racing.

Four months since the Master of the house had gone into town for the season.

Grand balls and dances and socializing with his fellow elite. Being wined and dined as high society tried to gentle its coercion into strengthening the wealth and prestige it so desperately craved. Matrimony was just one of a thousand ways to secure its own future, but it certainly was among the top of the list.

Piers took a rare moment to compose himself, leaning his forehead against the door to Leon’s study, where he could hear the quiet, oft-heard rustling of paper. Four months of fear and doubt all culminating into what awaited him past that door.

He sighed, taking a fortifying breath back in, and opened it.

No sense in delaying the inevitable.

It took him a moment to realize that he’d somehow been expecting Leon to look different. He wasn’t entirely sure why, when four months was hardly enough time for any significant change, but it had been the first time Piers hadn’t gone to Wyndon with him.

Seeing those same, beloved features was more comforting than he’d expected. See, those familiar hands were writing something out on parchment, his brown etched in concentration, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he contemplated his next word. And his shoulders, bending to his task, as though the world was only him and his writing. Piers knew how the paper felt, if such ridiculous notions as living paper were to be entertained. He himself had been the focus of that gaze, those piercing eyes that had looked at him and then decided to keep looking.

Had found something worthwhile, if only for a moment.

He wished he could stay suspended here in this strange in-between forever. Just watching, and serving, and loving, as he’d always done before Leon had shown up at his door, guilty and worried and still needing despite his reservations.

As if Piers would ever say no to him.

Not because he couldn’t—Leon had made that very clear—but because in what universe did he _not_ want Leon like that?

As if he had spoken aloud, Leon chose that moment to look up, and Piers’ quick lapse into frivolous wishes was over.

His time was up, but…

What was his place here?

Was he meant to walk forward, set the tray on the table, and leave? Was he supposed to converse congenially about Leon’s time away? About the fine things Leon had seen and done, all with his…with his new…

“Piers,” Leon breathed, the scrape of his chair loud in the relative stillness of the afternoon. He stood there, not moving, just looking, and Piers held his gaze as long as he could before he finally walked forward, placing the tray on Leon’s desk, rather than the tea table.

For a moment, it looked as though Leon was as uncertain as he was, his fingers gripping the corner of his desk like it was the only solid thing he could hold onto. Ever anxious about change, even ones that were welcome to him.

He’d known this day was coming, but that was of little consolation now that it had arrived.

“Will you be needin’ anythin’ else, sir?” It had been a rather long time since he’d felt self-conscious of the coarseness of his accent. He wasn’t looking forward to the return of that particular shame.

If he’d been born to different circumstances…

The silence was a slow drip of agony. He fought the urge to fidget.

“Am I ‘sir’, again?” Leon asked, finally, still not taking his eyes from Piers.

“Congratulations are in order. I heard the good news.”

_Not by your words. I had to hear from the gardener because you couldn’t be bothered to write me. Everyone I asked said the two of you looked so happy together._

“When will she arrive?”

_How long do I have before I am relegated to wishing in the dark once more?_

Leon breathed out quietly, looking up to the ceiling for a moment.

“Thank God, I thought you were cross with me,” he murmured, the relief evident as his shoulders relaxed, and Piers’ curled in further.

“No, sir.”

“Piers,” Leon said warmly, taking his hand to draw him in, and Piers took a step back.

Leon’s expression wavered, hand lingering mid-air for a few moments before he let it fall.

“You _are_ cross with me,” Leon said, tracing his thumbs over Piers’ closed eyes as he tilted his face up. He turned it back down in refusal, laying his cheek against Leon’s chest instead. Who would deny him these last comforts but himself, were he a stronger man? “But Piers…you’ve nothing to fear from Lady Sonia.”

He couldn’t help the flinch. Every sleepless night confirmed with a lovely name to match an undoubtedly lovely woman.

One who would find quite quickly that she wasn’t particularly fond of the way the maid eyed her fiancé.

He’d had more than a month to prepare, but no amount of time would have been enough to make this easier.

It was not his place to try and compete with her. However hurt he was that Leon did not return his love, he’d not let any harm come to his employer. He couldn’t allow her to rake Leon’s good name through the mud when they were inevitably caught out. And for what? All his needs could be fulfilled by his wife as she learned how to run the house properly. Keeping Piers around was a danger to everything Leon had built. Everything he and Lord Raihan had worked towards, bringing opportunity and work to those who had once been destitute.

People like Piers.

He couldn’t deny others all the good that Leon did simply because he wanted to be selfish. To keep pretending—as long as he was able—that he was anything more than a convenient body to hold in the night.

So long as Leon was happy with whatever decisions had been made, that was the important thing. Piers’ heart would heal, eventually. It had before, and it would continue to do so.

The benefits of his upbringing meant that little in the world could topple him over.

He pulled away, nodding, setting out the tea things.

“I’ll start preparin’ everythin’ for her arrival. Am I to assume her private rooms will be in the East wing?”

Distraction. He needed one, and soon. The longer he went without doing what was necessary, the less likely he would find the courage to do so at all.

He would be busy during his last days here, very much so, but he could only be grateful for that. As much as Lady Sonia’s presence would hurt, it was also a blessing in a way. There would be a great deal of readying that would need to be done by tonight, and then of course they’d need to move her things in. Marnie would be the one to spend time with her, getting her acquainted with the house and the staff while they all got used to the new way of things.

At least until he could send for his sister from his new place of employment.

He reached for the letter, smoothing it out, trying to keep his nerves steady.

“Please, Piers, I…I did the best I could,” Leon said, and Piers paused, unused to Leon sounding so defeated. “It’s been four months. Can you not be angry with me tomorrow instead? I don’t think I can bear sleeping alone tonight.”

Nor could he, and yet he would.

He held out the parchment.

“What is this?” Leon asked. He took it dazedly, and Piers went around him, heading for the door. “Piers, wait—”

“Sir,” Piers finally said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady, making up for it in the sharpness of his tone.

He’d so hoped he’d be able to get through this without breaking.

“Will you be requirin’ anythin’ else?” He repeated, gripping the door handle as tightly as he could.

Leon looked as if he had been struck.

“This…this is a letter of resignation.”

“It is.”

Leon took a step forward, and Piers took one back before something flashed across Leon’s expression.

“Why?”

Why indeed. A singular word that was deceiving in its simplicity. Answers to such a question were rarely ever easy to give.

“Was it…did you…did you not—” So pained, and it was an odd sort of helplessness to not be permitted to soothe him.

He finally sat down at his desk, forehead in a hand as he stared blankly at the woodgrain of it.

“Were my…attentions…distasteful to you?”

“Not at all, sir. They have simply run their course.” Blunt, perhaps, but what else could he say besides the truth? He’d served his purpose, and it had been no meagre pleasure. He rather wished now that it had. Perhaps then he’d have been spared this strange dance of reminding his employer of their respective places. The gentry might flout the rules as they saw fit, but he had no such luxury at the end of the day.

“And my sentiments?” Leon asked quietly after a while, eyes darting up for a moment to hold his own before they fell back down, as though he was the one being shamed.

“What sentiments?” Had he expressed any? Piers couldn’t recall a time in the year they’d been carrying on together, and he was certain he’d have remembered such a moment, moonstruck as he was over any scrap of affection Leon had ever deigned to throw his way outside of the bedroom. Their flirtations aside, such moments had been few and far between. Leon was a generally pleasant person, and friendly to all. A smile, a touch to the hand, compliments and words of encouragement were all things he’d done from the start. Nothing special to be noticed when he carried on in such a way with everyone.

Leon’s face smoothed into something carefully, agonizingly neutral. Calm, composed, unfathomable.

“I see.”

_What do you see?_

If the silence had been agony before, it was nothing to whatever weight suddenly settled, pressing down against his chest at the way Leon stood back up abruptly, turning away from him, face still impassive. He looked out at the vast grounds through the window that showed his domain.

Leon had always been out of reach, but between one second and the next, Piers felt it more keenly than he ever had before.

Only a lifetime of training stopped him from pressing a hand to his chest to try and quell the pain that feeling sparked.

_Don’t you dare turn back now. This is for the best._

He’d learn to live with it until it faded.

“If I may, where is it you’ll be going? Should you need a letter of—”

“Circhester,” Piers interrupted quickly. Leon had never been one to mind. The sooner he could leave the room, the sooner he’d be free to find one of the thousand hidden places on the grounds to bury his sorrow. “I’m going to Circhester. I’m already expected there, but thank you.”

Leon took in a sharp breath, facing him.

“How long have you…Gordie did say that they’d hired someone…but then, you’ll be leaving in—”

“I’ll leave at the end of the week. Marnie will be taking my position until such a time as someone new is found. Then she will join me at Circhester.”

Frequent were the moments he wished he could see into the brilliant mind before him. He could lose himself between Leon’s thoughts happily, content to simply be present among them, but such a thing was impossible.

It didn’t stop him from wishing he had such power as Leon opened and closed his mouth several times before any remaining fight went out of him.

Piers nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

“Very well,” he said at last, and cleared his throat when it came out rough enough that Piers had to lean forward a bit to hear. “I’ll see to it that your…that the transition is a smooth one. You’ve given us many years of the finest service and I’ll make certain it doesn’t go uncompensated.”

“That’s very kind, and well-appreciated.”

It was horrendously uncomfortable for all of a second more before—

“That will be all, then. Piers, if you should need anything…” He trailed off, shaking his head, clearly thinking better of it.

No further resources would be wasted on him.

Piers’ hand was already on the door handle behind him.

“Please inform Mrs. Abernathy to begin looking for a suitable replacement immediately. I’d rather they arrive before Ms. Marnie’s departure, so that she might inform them of the goings-on here.”

_Which should have been your job, but never mind._ Piers could practically hear it, and he gripped tighter.

“Dismissed.”

Piers did not _run_. No self-respecting man would, not when they weren’t in any danger.

But he could admit, privately, that he came very, _very_ close.


End file.
